I got this from Lara Curry's busy mom_fitmom's instagram page. She shared it from a fitness challenge she is doing. Lara is pretty awesome for inspiration.

​So, here’s the thing: sometimes self-love has to feel a little bit like “tough love.” Because, yes, absolutely, we love the baby (and you must read my last post if you want to understand what I mean here) but eventually that baby has to get up and take care of herself and take responsibility for herself too. At some point, that baby becomes complicit in some of that shit she has to go through.

Let’s take, for example, my ass.

Several years ago, I took a good long look at it – yes, IT, without clothes, without special angles, without good lighting – just IT. And, though EVERYTHING I’ve said --about getting in shape, losing weight, getting healthy for the sake of being a good role model to my kids, being happier on a daily basis. ALL of that-- is true, what’s also true is that I wanted a nicer ass.

So, I worked really hard, and I got, what looked to me like, a nicer ass. And I enjoyed having a pretty nice ass for a woman of my age. I enjoyed the jeans I could fit that ass into. I enjoyed the way skirts made that ass look. I enjoyed –yes, the vanity—of feeling good about the way my ass looked in the presence of my husband. And I think all of that is fair. It’s fair to want to feel really good about your ass. It’s fair to want to feel really good about your whole body.

And self-love – pure, unconditional self-love – is ABSOLUTELY first and foremost and much more important than having a nice ass. This is true because… people who have really nice asses but hate themselves are still insufferable to be around and still suffer, unnecessarily, inside too. This is also true because… people who don’t really like their asses aren’t going to be able to do anything about the fact that they don’t like their asses, long term, if they just sit around hating themselves and beating themselves up all the time. SELF-LOVE FIRST. ALWAYS.

But, once you’ve got self-love down. Once you know you are fabulous no matter what and you are loved no matter what and the Universe wants what’s best for you, then there has to be personal responsibility and accountability for your actions. Self-love isn’t about endless sitting around on the couch, eating chips straight out of the family-sized bag, binge-watching glee, ignoring your children and dogs and still telling yourself you are awesome no matter what (I mean, you might need a day of that here and there but not “endlessly”). Self-love is about taking care of yourself. Self-love IS self-care. And sometimes… sometimes self-love means taking a good hard look at your ass and deciding whether you like what you see or not. If you DO, that is FABULOUS! Celebrate that amazing ass, baby! But if you don’t. If you take a good, hard look and you really truly DO NOT like what you see there, Self-love/ Self-care requires that you begin to actually DO something about that. Take action.

One of my favorite Professors and all-around fitness heroes, Peggy Barber, always says: “Live the way you want to look!” At some point, self-love/self-care is about knowing how you want to look and taking the appropriate actions. Eat healthy. Exercise consistently.

This may sound like plain-old vanity to you. And, I would agree. It is vanity. It IS vanity to want to look good, to look YOUR best. But, I’m not suggesting we chase after looking good to the detriment of all other self-care. I’m not suggesting botox or plastic surgery or other dangerous interventions that are very much the antithesis of self-care. I’m talking about healthy eating and consistent exercise. And guess what healthy eating and consistent exercise do for us. They don’t just make us look good, they (MUCH MORE IMPORTANTLY) make us FEEL good. So, not only do you get a fabulous ass, you get a fabulous attitude that goes along with that ass. And that fabulous attitude makes EVERYTHING (including your ass) look better to you!

I have allowed chasing my little dream of building a mermaid business to totally disrupt my ability to eat well and workout consistently. Every available moment I used to have (because, mind you, I DO have a full-time job that requires the true majority of my time) for running, swimming, biking, meal prep, lifting, grocery shopping – all of that time – I have been pouring into my business and I MUST finally admit, it has taken a toll on my poor ass.

Yep, got another good, long look at it a couple of days ago and I’ve been reeling every since. When did it begin to spread and slide down my legs like that? And why haven’t I really truly noticed until now?

The good news is because I’ve been holding on – for dear life – to my sense of self-love and my profound belief in self-care – I have been able to avoid hating on myself to the point of absolute denial and despair. When a hateful thought rises up, I’m able to squash it. When I am tempted to starve myself because “oh poor me, I’m just SO fat!” I sit myself down and shut myself up with an apple and a little handful of almonds. “Take care of yourself” I say. Over and over and over. And I do. I take care of myself. And lately, taking care of myself has meant cutting myself a LOT of slack because I'm doing a lot. But, there comes a point where you've maybe given yourself too much slack and need to give yourself a little tough love instead.

And... I’m not liking the look of my ass these days. I’m not liking it because it is just an outward (like, really outward and downward, really), physical manifestation of how, though I have held on to self-love, I have not been honest about what I need for self-care. I have not been taking action. Self-love/self-care has been a philosophy – not a practice.

SO, I’m giving myself a little tough love and I’m committing again to the PRACTICE of self-love and self-care, not just the words, not just the philosophy or the belief, but THE PRACTICE. Running, lifting, yoga, making healthy choices with food, cramming exercise in wherever I find a nook or cranny in my day because that’s what it takes: Action.

Practice, take action, take care of yourself, with love, Teamies!Oh, and, LOVE your ass, while you’re at it!-The QP

Yes, it's true, sometimes you have to cut yourself some slack BUT sometimes you also need to give yourself a little tough love and DO THE WORK!

​I blog a lot about self-love. A lot of people do. I know. It’s a popular topic these days. I know there are lots of cultural, historical and maybe even economy-based reasons for this. I know that these cultural, historical and economy-based reasons are far more fascinating to some people than any more of my “self-discovery, self-exploration, personal growth, memoirish-essay-ish” shtick would be. Indeed, I love reading these more egg-headed approaches to popular culture topics too. LOVE it. But, even after a week or so of researching these egg-headed approaches, I cannot find an approach for explaining self-love that I, personally, have more authority on than just my own experience. It’s what I know. And I’m a firm believer in that old adage, “write what you know.” So, that’s that.

After my last blog post about self-love, a person whose intelligence, beliefs, opinions, and taste-in-baked-goods I admire immensely, asked me openly, on facebook, to define what kind of “love” I was referring to. This person explained that so many of us (bloggers, facebook peeps, etc…) are always talking about self-love but she didn’t understand why it had to be “love.” Why not self-respect? Why not generosity of spirit? Why not kindness? Why “love”? She actually finished her question with this: “What’s love got to do with it?” And because I know a little bit about her sense of humor, I knew she was both serious AND quoting Tina Turner. And this filled me with an urge to answer her sincerely – AND to listen to Tina Turner.

So, I scoured the interwebs’ mighty canon of wisdom for all I could find in the way of definitions of love and self-love. In this process, I discovered many interesting bible passages, humanist manifestos, Buddhist prayers, feminist explanations and yes, even economy-based critiques regarding the concepts of love and self-love. I entertained the idea of putting these all together into some kind of deeply intellectual understanding of the pursuit of self-love.

Then I got extremely bored with myself, yawned and took my dogs for a walk.

I have worked in what we people in higher ed like to call “academia” for 15 years. Though I use the word “academia” on occasion to refer to the larger world of higher education (as that is its correct usage), hearing it drip out of my mouth, or anyone else’s makes me roll my eyes and gives me a bad stomachache. It’s so pompous. It’s so “we-are-the-ivory-tower-elite-and-you’re-not” and I can’t stand that. I say all of that, to say this: “Academia” likes to complicate simple things. What I have learned about “academia” in 15 years is that it, ultimately, defines critical thinking (whether it wants to admit it or not) as taking fairly simple ideas and complicating them until they make no earthly sense to so-called “non-academic” people. Isn’t that convenient? The surest way to make people feel like they don’t belong is to speak in a language that they don’t understand. Oh, Ivory Tower, why you gotta be like that? But, here’s what I think (and keep in mind, I’m not saying what I think necessarily bears any consideration by any of you – it’s just the opinion of one person who has been teaching English in community colleges and yes, some Universities,--ooooooh-- for 15 years): the job of critical thinking should actually be to simplify complicated things. As anyone who has been paying any attention to their life should be able to tell you, life is complicated, folks. We don’t need to complicate it further. Often, we need to pull back the layers of complication and get to the simple muscle and bone holding everything together and making it all work.

[p.s., as you can imagine, I have so much more to say on this topic. This “complicating simple things” issue is actually very dangerous, in my mind. It is the main reason, in my opinion, people like Trump – and other insane idiots-- even have a chance of being taken seriously by seemingly sane, non-idiots. Insane idiots use this backwards “critical thinking” against people. It’s a rhetorical move. It’s a fake out. It’s smoke and mirrors. “Complicating simple things” is, in part – and, at least, rhetorically speaking-- what makes Hitlers. But I am digressing. There’s much more to say about this notion of what "critical thinking" truly is and how it is misused – that’s my point.]

So, instead of all of my interwebs research on self-love, I am making the conscious choice to simply go deeper into my own understanding. Remember, that’s my shtick anyway. It’s what I do.

Imagine that Dickens’ Ghost of Christmas Past (or some other being endowed with the magical ability to take you back in time) arrived on your doorstep just now. Then, she flew you back to the moment you made the great transition from your mother’s womb into this world. Then, she gave you the chance to hold that baby. THAT baby. You. Hold onto that thought-image for just a moment.

I don’t love children, truthfully. They are really obnoxious and loud and require a great deal of energy and time and patience – and it’s hard to just be lazy and stupid around them (unless you don’t care about them falling into a toaster or electrocuting themselves in the bathtub—but somehow I don’t see my audience as being a bunch of neglectful child abusers) – and, for the most part, it’s fun to be lazy and stupid. I hated babysitting as a young teenager and didn’t do it for very long – thank goodness too because I sucked at it. Just keeping it real, here.

But, that said, I – even I -- LOVE and REQUIRE the hope, the energy, the joy, the constant questioning that children bring to this world. I LOVE the wide eyes of babies, the way they are pure human essence – with no filter of culture, language, or experience. Total innocence and potential.

And I am thinking of an incredibly dear friend when I say this: I have seen the most cynical, sarcastic, non-baby-friendly adults in this world turn to goo and happiness, despite themselves, around babies.

We LOVE babies. And here, friend, I’m getting to my answer. Why “love”? Why don’t we “respect” babies? Or, “feel charitable” toward babies? Or, “feel kindness” towards babies? Because we don’t. We LOVE them.
In some ways, the “love” we feel for babies is just a shorthand for ALL of the emotions we feel towards babies. This definition of “love” includes, but is not limited to: wanting to protect them; hoping for only good things for them; worry for what might befall them as they grow; confidence in their ability to get through whatever comes their way; awe over their beauty (they’re biologically designed to induce THAT response, you know); innate attraction to their smell (thanks again, biology); a weird desire to make sure they are eating well (you feel this, particularly, if you are or have been a parent); another weird desire to keep them clean (again, thanks parenthood); and an intense self-expectation that you will do all in your power to make sure no harm comes to them while they are in your hands (yes, this is the same as protection but it’s also deeper/ stranger than this). I know this definition doesn’t cover it all. I know there’s other stuff too. And, what’s best about this “love” is what is so impossible to name. It’s just “that” feeling. It’s “that” feeling that makes people (yes, all genders) go “aaaaaaaw,” in that where-did-that-come-from breathless way, when they see a baby.

Now, take yourself back to the thought-image of holding little newborn YOU.

Do you see it? Do you feel that? THAT’S why it has to be Self-LOVE and no other word. That’s why “kindness toward oneself” or “generosity of spirit toward oneself” does not cut it. Not even remotely.

Because, here’s the reality, THAT baby is going to grow up and go through some real shit. Some really horrible things are going to happen to that baby – EVEN if everyone she ever meets tries to protect her, feels THAT love for her, bad things are going to happen… eventually, sooner-or-later. And when bad things happen to her, especially the sooner they happen, she’ll start to lose THAT love for herself. If she’s lucky, her parents and/or her world will help her feel THAT love so strongly and for long enough that when those shit things happen, she’s able to continue to feel it with no need for reminders. If she’s not lucky or if those shit things are super super super super shit, I know for a fact, she will forget… she will stop loving herself, if she ever started in the first place. She will need to be reminded… she will need to be taught. She will need to learn to hold her little newborn baby-self in her arms and let herself feel THAT love.

Self-love may be complicated. The experiences life & culture throw our way that make discussion and emphasis on self-love necessary are complicated. But, the feeling that floods your brain, your body and your heart when you are in the presence of a baby (especially a happy, non-screaming, baby – again, just being real) or a child is not complicated. It’s pure human. It’s simple.

That’s MY answer. The vast google-centric internets have many others to offer. “Academia” would (and I’m sure, has, many many times) woven this simple concept into a complicated tapestry of dissertations. I am interested in, even fascinated by, all of these additional answers. But, for me, in my day-to-day, to get through that “shit” I referred to two short paragraphs ago, this simple definition is what I need to make my life work. It’s the bone and the muscle.

Keep Questioning with Love, Teamies!
And, while you’re at it, listen to some Tina:

A couple of years ago when I was probably in the best shape I’ve ever been in my entire life, a colleague overheard me talking about my walking and lifting regimen with a friend of mine. She sidled up to me and quietly said something like, “it’s amazing what you can accomplish with rage, isn’t it?”

You know how people say things that instantly take your breath away and those things are so clever that they don’t seem like insults or negative comments but you instinctively feel this sharp corner rise up from your heart warning you to be cautious of how you proceed? And have you ever noticed that those comments usually take you completely off guard? And have you ever thought to yourself, “she couldn’t have really meant that to be offensive… she’s nicer than that, right?”

She probably is nicer than that. She probably doesn’t mean to be offensive. She probably doesn’t realize your heart has suddenly become a razor blade and you’re a little bloody on the inside. Probably not.

It so happens that I shared some details of my past life with this colleague several years prior that would absolutely justify her thinking that I was full of rage. I may have acted in ways, even, that made it clear I had a fair enough amount of rage to go around. But it struck me in this instant, that my self-care, my commitment to health had come from a completely different place. I had truly let all of those past things go. Truly. When I made my commitment to health and self-care, it was because I had deeply understood how dependent my children’s ability to love themselves was on MY ability to love myself. Every time I ran or walked or lifted weights, I was doing it with joy, thinking about my baby girl, my almost pre-teen son. These kids were going to need to learn self-love and self-care and I understood that I had to be a model of that behavior. My life – in that moment – was flooded with joy and hope and love. I sought health because of, and through, those things, and nothing remotely like rage.

All of this came to me in an instant – and there was no way to articulate it. So, I smiled and laughed. But I always wish I hadn't.

What I also remembered in that instant was that I had, once or twice, earlier in my life, sought health through rage, through anger, and hurt and (something like) revenge. So, I knew exactly what my colleague was talking about. I remember being in a kickboxing class and being told to imagine someone’s face as we were punching. It was cathartic when an important face appeared as plain as day, in my mind’s eye, and I beat the living hell out of it. But after class, that face was still there. I remember dragging my ass to the treadmill at my gym once, just after my son turned one year old. I was exhausted. I had not slept well enough the night before. I was also, at the time, starving myself (a clear act of self-hatred). I did not remotely have the energy to run. But I forced myself to run by saying the MOST horrifically nasty things to myself. I went on for the entire 30 minute run about how absolutely worthless I was. I said things I wouldn’t say to any other human being on this planet – not even certain politicians that terrify me in their stupidity – not even the “pro-rape activist” guy currently trying to make himself famous by causing others misery. I pushed through that run with total hatred for my body; total, complete, hatred and rage. I left that treadmill in tears, but dammit, I had gotten my run in for the day.

Guess what though? Hate is not sustainable. Hate will kill you. Rage is a powerful force of energy. One of my favorite Johnny Rotten lines is: “Anger is an energy.” I sang it endlessly as a teenager and as a very young woman filled with hurt and terror and rage and pain so deep I didn’t think it would ever end.

And… to be honest… pain that deep doesn’t go away completely. Just last week, something triggered what some counselors have told me is PTSD. And, I had emotions suddenly that were difficult to control. I felt things that didn’t make any sense. I cried a lot. I forgot how to smile for a couple of days. But what I know now that I didn’t know when I was a younger person experiencing this pain is that rage, anger, hatred – those emotions do not make the pain stop. They just make it worse. They take the tiny thorn in my heart and amass a darkness so thick around it that there is no room for love or healing. Last week, when the pain came, there was a moment, maybe a day, that I was tempted to give in to anger, to rage. But, I remembered. And then I let go. And I allowed the pain to hurt me instead of change me. I honored it. I said, “I remember where you come from. It’s okay. I’m going to take care of you.” And then I did.

The alternative to just feeling it, honoring it and taking care of it, is letting it kill you. And I’m not going out like that. Nope.

Over the past several months, I have lost touch with what had become my steady routine of self-care because I’ve been pouring every available moment into my little business projects, which sustain me and bring me a lot of joy, but that clearly I need to figure out some clearer boundaries for. It took me about 20 years of teaching English to establish some clear boundaries there. But we tend to take less time to realize and correct our mistakes each time we make them so I’m hoping I’m learning those clear boundaries now. I don’t need to hope. I am. I know I am.

During these last several months though, I’ve been trying to muscle through runs and swims and weightlifting sessions and bodypump classes and everything else with an energy that isn’t exactly like rage but is definitely not love, or hope or joy either. “Shoulds.” My crazy-smart sister would say that I’ve been “shouldin’ on” myself.

This morning, for the first morning in about four months, I woke up with nothing that had to be done IMMEDIATELY. No grading. No email. No phone call. No contract. No handouts for class. Nothing. Just me, in my bed, waking up slowly, while my almost-teenaged (OH MY GOD) son and his little sister snuggled up for good morning hugs. I thought: “I should get up and go for a run” and then I shook my head and snuggled harder, helped my husband get them off to school, calmly and serenely completed one of my amazing “small muscle magic” workouts (these 5 practices of my own design that I LOVE!), and then did a loving kindness meditation.

For myself: “May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I be peaceful. May I be safe.” Until I got it through my head.

For a handful of people that popped into my mind -- family members, people from my church, colleagues, friends: “May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be peaceful. May you be safe.” Until I felt filled with gratitude that these people are in my life.

For (seriously) Donald Trump, Sarah Palin, that idiot “pro-rape activist”: “May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be peaceful. May you be safe.” Until I let go of my hate and radically accepted that we are all human beings, born of a mother, destined to die. This practice is a lot like mentally taking out the trash. What good was my hate or my anger doing ME? None. So, I threw it away.

Yesterday, I was notified that I have been chosen to serve as an ambassador to The Mermaid Club again this year! Getting this news flipped some kind of switch in my head. I remembered why I sought that ambassadorship in the first place. I remembered why I started Mermaid Fitness in the first place. I remembered why I was moved to commit to a life of health and movement and cooking and eating with love in the first place: JOY. HOPE. LOVE. Giving myself those sublime gifts and helping others find them too: that’s why and how I accomplish everything that I do. And it’s amazing what you can accomplish with Joy and Hope and Love. It really is. Yes.

Let go of your rage today, Teamies.& Do ALL that you do with love.Namaste,Your QP

One of the things I loved best about being a kid was car trips with my parents. By the time I was ten or so, I was the only kid left in my family that was young enough to be carted around on road trips and the back seat was entirely my domain. During the day, I’d do my typical pre-teen sulking, while listening to my Walkman and reading issues of BOP and Smash Hits. My mother would call out whenever she saw a horse or a cow. I’d look up and smile or roll my eyes, or some combination of both. Eventually, the batteries would wear out on my Walkman and I’d be forced to listen to my parents’ casettes: Lionel Richie, Kenny Rogers, Rod Stewart. On the surface, I thought it was a special kind of hell, having to listen to that music but somewhere underneath I learned every word to every song and secretly loved the way we would all sing along in unison. Like everything else on the road trip, my parents decided which music we would listen to when. They were in charge. My only job was to ride along and enjoy myself as much as possible (which for a precocious pre-teen, angst-ridden youngster like myself was no small job, I assure you).

The best part of these trips were the night-rides. I would lie down in the backseat with my own pillow and blanket and watch the night sky rush, upside down and sideways, over my head. I would listen to my parents talk and sing. My parents often had a tense and difficult relationship. My father was a tense and difficult man. But, for the most part, on these car trips, especially at night, I remember sweet, hushed voices, I remember slow, soft singing. And even as I write about it now, I can remember this deep calm that would come over me. Even though I had no control over the situation whatsoever, I remember feeling completely confident that I was absolutely safe in the backseat.

Recently, this has become one of my overriding analogies for living a spiritual life. I have no control over anything that happens in this world except for my own actions. If The Universe wants to stop at the next rest area, it will. I can either choose to use the opportunity to stretch my legs and use the facilities or I can stay pouty and half-asleep in the car clutching an issue of Smash Hits with Simon LeBon’s face on the cover. The point is, it is not I, but the Universe who is in control of this ride.

Spiritually, that was a hard pill for me to swallow as a younger person. I wanted to be in control. I wanted to decide when and where we would stop, how long we’d stay, if we’d enjoy ourselves or if my parents would stay up all night fighting. But even through this long phase (I think it might’ve lasted until I was somewhere in my late 30s), I relished that deep calm that came in the night, that giving-over to trusting someone else to drive. That moment of grace.

Grace is defined, in Christian terms, as a moment where God intervenes on behalf of someone who does not deserve it. And, in Christian theology, of course, none of us deserve it because we are all sinners. While I do not consider myself a Christian, there is a lot I connect to -- and I think we can learn -- in these concepts.

When someone (or something) else is always in control – and all you can do is control your own behavior while going along for the ride, it is possible to experience a great deal of fear and confusion. The great ride we are on is this: We never know what’s going to happen next. Maybe we’ll win the lottery! Maybe we’ll get hit by a bus. Maybe we’ll fall in love today. Maybe someone will decide they’ve had enough of us and leave. These endless possibilities of change that often seem to come out of the blue, reasonably produce sometimes high levels of anxiety in us.

For me, when I experience a relief in this anxiety, it feels like Grace. It feels like the Universe has reached a hand into the backseat to pat my knee and to say, “there’s no need to worry, JodiAnn. Everything’s going to be alright.” Then I have heard that “still small voice in me” and so has the Universe and I can breathe easy and just love.

Several years ago, the quicksand of my usual anxiety over not being in control of every single thing started to morph into depression. This is not altogether unusual for me. But, I was really desperate this one sleepless night and I started seeking answers from the internet. In a way, it was like hiking to the top of a mountain and shouting out my questions for the Universe. Except, instead of being at the top of a mountain and shouting, I was hunched over the glowing screen of my computer in my bed at 2 o’clock in the morning, punching a keyboard. I seriously asked Google, “Is it possible to be happy?” I genuinely wanted to know. Because when you have no control and you feel trapped in that helplessness, and anxiety and depression feel like totally sane responses, it seems like happiness is a pretty Unicorn in a land of make believe. Google gave me a slew of TED talks on the subject of happiness. Google is really smart like that. I stayed up all night – all night – watching these TED talks about Happiness, and, truly, my life has never been the same. What talk after talk after talk taught me that night was that we have the capacity to cultivate happiness. Grace. Google gave me Grace. And I began to breathe and love easier again.

So, yes, I knew the only thing I could control was my own behavior but, until that night, I didn’t realize the extent to which I could even do that. But here there were neurologists, and positive psychologists and medical doctors and behavioral specialists telling me that I could take certain actions, certain daily actions to cultivate my own happiness. Exercise, gratitude, intentional acts of kindness, journaling about 1 positive thing in the last 24 hours, meditation. So, I started taking these actions and they really really worked. Through the next several months, the depression lifted, the anxiety subsided. And I continued to keep it at bay by continuing to cultivate. Finding these truths helped me live with dignity and let me know serenity. And in this space, I created an online presence called The QueenPrincess. I changed the name of my blog to The QueenPrincess says and started a Facebook page for The QueenPrincess where I could share my journey in cultivating happiness with others.

As the QueenPrincess, I learned the habits of cultivating happiness but it also became abundantly clear to me that my past propensity toward self-hatred was of epic proportions. Like my mother before me, if I made a mistake – like taking the wrong exit on the highway or cooking pasta too long – I inundated myself with a slew of mean names (“idiot” is my favorite) as punishment. But this habit is mild compared to the hatred I can heap upon my own body. I would be terrifically ashamed to divulge the hateful things I have said to myself about myself, when it comes to my body and my appearance. But I admit this openly to you today, because I doubt very much that I am alone in this camp. My guess is that most of us say some things to ourselves about various aspects of ourselves that we would feel ashamed or embarrassed to admit. We say things to ourselves we would never say about anyone else. We give love to others that we refuse to give ourselves.

I used to do the same. Then, at a certain moment during a certain day, I watched my daughter playing dress-up. She put on her favorite “dress” which is a generic superhero costume. We call her cape girl, when she wears it. I watched the effortless relationship she still has with her body. The way she doesn’t even worry or think about how she looks. She is concerned only with what feels good and what she can move in. I have bought her countless pairs of “cute jeans” in her seven short years and she flat out, refuses to wear them because they just are not comfortable. I admire this about her. It dawned on me, though, this day, that if I didn’t stop heaping hatred upon my own body and in general, talking myself down at every turn, this vibrant little badass would one day not feel very vibrant or badass-y. It was an epiphany. But you could call it Grace. It was a moment dividing song from no song. It was daybreak. Usually, we can’t see when feelings and thoughts begin in our lives. We evolve so gradually toward ourselves. But this was one of those moments that I knew things had to change.

I never want my children to hate their bodies or their minds or their lives. I never want them to feel trapped or helpless. I want them to brim with confidence, to trust that they are exactly who they need to be and what they need to be and where they need to be. I want them to love themselves. But self-love is like an oxygen mask on an airplane. You can't help anyone else with theirs until you've got yours on.

And then, lightbulb! I realized, this is exactly what The Universe wants for me as well. While it’s up there doing all the driving, making all the decisions, it needs me to do my job: Cultivate happiness and love myself.

On the topic of the connection between self-love and spirituality, Nathaniel Branden writes:

“For many people, one of the commonest associations with the idea of spirituality is the longing to feel at home in the universe – to feel benevolently connected to all that exists and to the ultimate source, whatever that might be, of all that exists.

Whatever else may be required for the fulfillment of this desire, peace and harmony with oneself is a precondition of peace and harmony with anything else. A spirit cannot be benevolently connected to the universe ahead of being benevolently connected to itself. However, there is a sense in which the reverse it also true. The relationship is reciprocal. A spirit cannot be benevolently connected to itself if it is in an adversarial stance to reality.”

Being in an adversarial stance to reality means, we are trying to jump in the front seat and take the wheel – when we should know this is impossible. We are not in control of everything. Only ourselves. But, when we take the actions we need to take to cultivate happiness, science tells us that our brains function better. We actually become more capable human beings. And at this higher level of efficiency, we are able to connect better to others. The same is true with self-love. If we take the actions that are necessary to demonstrate love to ourselves, we are then more capable of loving others. If the purpose of spiritual practice or having spirituality is to “feel benevolently connected to all that exists and to the ultimate source” – the simple, useful, everyday acts of cultivating happiness and self-love create that very connection. We have happiness and self-love. We do not need to drive.

But let me give you a concrete example. I am a compulsive overeater. This is my addiction. I eat compulsively because I hate myself. I hate myself when I overeat compulsively. Addiction works exactly this way with self-hatred: it’s a monstrous reciprocity. When I am actively “using” food to numb my pain or calm my nerves or pick me up when I feel down (or any of the other 1,000 emotional reasons I have for using food), I am no more useful to the world than a drunk or a drug-addict. I am almost totally focused on how much I hate myself.

See, we think that cultivating self-love sounds selfish or narcissistic but it is actually self-hate that is selfish and narcissistic. When I am hating myself, I have no real time for anyone or anything else. I am too busy focused on myself. But when I am cultivating self-love, I am engaged in behaviors that allow me the clarity to focus my attention on the world around me, the people around me, and the most positive way that I can interact with this world. When I am loving myself, I am actually loving the world. I am able to grow spiritually as I create that connection.

In order to not “use” food, I need to engage in a handful of behaviors. I need to exercise regularly and relatively moderately. I need to keep a sane schedule and not overextend myself. I need to get a decent amount of sleep. I need time to play and snuggle with my family. I need to plan what I’m going to eat ahead of time. I need to have lots of really healthy food in my house. I need to cook. It’s also helpful if I’m writing and meditating regularly.

But when I don’t engage in these behaviors: when I don’t set good boundaries and I overextend myself; when I stay up all night long and never catch up on my sleep; when I don’t have any time in my schedule for family; when I don’t go grocery shopping or don’t cook; when I don’t exercise – I will overeat compulsively and I will hate myself. Though sometimes it’s a bit of a chicken and egg thing and I’m not sure that hating myself doesn’t come first.

So, I work hard to cultivate happiness and engage in the self-care I know I need to demonstrate self-love. I put my own oxygen mask on first.

But I have two children, two dogs, a spouse, a (more-than) full-time job, two small businesses, a desire to write more often, friends I’d like to stay in touch with, family to visit, several physical activities I’d like to be even more involved in, a church community I’d rather be more involved in, and the need for a relatively clean home. Sometimes, I’m just not going to get enough sleep. Sometimes, I’m not going to have time to cook. Sometimes, it’s impossible to set good boundaries. Sometimes I’m going to compulsively overeat. Sometimes I’m going to hate myself…

or am I? Enter Grace again…

We tend to think of self-love in relatively shallow terms, actually. To be honest, we think of “love” in general in relatively shallow terms. But Love is really tough. Unconditional love, “profound love” as theorist Paulo Freire calls it, “cannot be sentimental” he says. Freire’s concept of “profound love” is the same as “radical acceptance.” Radical acceptance is the act of embracing everything without judgement, not just the parts we like. This is truly hard work.

Look at this world. There is so much to love. Babies. Spring. Lake Michigan. But there is also so much to hate. Creepy politicians who make really poor choices. Disease. Traffic. Death. It’s so easy to love spring. But loving disease? Loving traffic? Who can do that?

So, okay, instead of the world in general, let’s look at people. So much to love: friendliness, generosity, courage. So much to hate: greed, anger, cowardice. It is easy to love courage. But how do we love cowardice? How do we do that?

So, let’s think about radical acceptance of self. And I’ll use myself as an example. I am generous with my time. I love to entertain people. I am affectionate. But I am also almost always late for everything. Though I eventually get things done, I will likely get it done at the very last possible moment or even ask for an extension. I am hot-tempered and I often speak before I think. I am addicted to facebook. I am a compulsive overeater. It is easy for me to love the fact that I am affectionate. But how do I love… how do I accept that I am a compulsive overeater. Just like that. I accept myself. I don’t have to forgive myself (yet). I don’t have to make excuses for myself. I don’t have to like these unlikable behaviors. I just have to accept them for what they are. Part of me.

Now let’s go back to people. We don’t have to love greed, anger or cowardice. We don’t have to forgive them (yet). But to engage in “Profound love” or “radical acceptance,” we have to see them for what they are. The behaviors of people who are struggling to do what they think they should or they can do. Just like us. This is where: We seek to understand the shyness behind arrogance, the fear behind pride, the tenderness behind clumsy strength, the anguish behind cruelty. To believe that some people are just evil or are just wrong, is to lack all humility. And we lack humility when we are not radically accepting of all that makes us who we are. We are not always good. Good thing we don’t have to be. And we are not always right. In the Christian perspective, remember, we are all sinners. When we feel moved to fight against others who we believe to be evil or wrong, we are only fighting against ourselves. Once we love ourselves, and radically accept ourselves, once we have cultivated our own happiness, we have our own oxygen mask on THEN we can look at someone we feel is “wrong” and reach toward “radical acceptance” of them. Once we are reaching toward “radical acceptance” of them, we can create real, lasting change. This was the kind of work Ghandi, MLK, Dorthea Day, Nelson Mandela, Mother Theresa did. Can we be like these people every moment of every day? Probably not. They were who they were. The Universe needed them to be who they were. And the Universe needs us to be who we are, right where we are, in the way that we are. We can reach towards “radical acceptance” and creating, real, lasting change but we must also radically accept that we can only do what we can do. And we do enough.

Now, let’s look at the world. We don’t have to love disease or traffic or death or creepy politicians who make bad choices. But we can accept the reality of these things. We can see them for what they are. Various aspects of the human experience; our human experience. No more. No less. We can radically accept the fact of their existence. We can remember that "ALL Life flows into a great common life, if we will only open our eyes to our companions."

When we radically accept, that’s Grace too. Radical acceptance is a gift The Universe wants to give us but WE have to do the work. And when we do the work, when we radically accept ourselves, other people, the world, we can calm down a little bit. This doesn’t mean we stop working on problems or issues. On the contrary, it seems to me that we can only truly begin to work on problems and issues if we first have this attitude of radical acceptance because until then, we are just railing against something that is likely not that moveable.

When I first agreed to deliver this sermon, this talk, whatever it is, I was in a great place of self-healing. I was in full self-love swing, cultivating happiness and radically accepting all that was in my world. I was THE QueenPrincess. I was blogging about self-love and radical acceptance and trusting the Universe and cultivating happiness. Then, all the things I do conspired against me to steal all of the time I had for the behaviors that keep me in that place.

This has been the hardest thing I’ve written in a very long time. I must have started 20+ different drafts because I haven’t felt very QueenPrincessy for a while. For a long time, self-love has been gone, compulsive overeating has been going gangbusters and I haven't been accepting of a damn thing.

But day is breaking again, I am slowly and surely getting back to those behaviors that I know bring me Grace; those behaviors that alleviate my anxiety, calm me down and connect me to the Universe. Most importantly, now, I am also finally accepting that this will be an ongoing process. I will fumble. I will stutter. Then I will hustle again. Then I will plow through. And it will go on and on.

And this is my work. While the Universe drives. While the world rushes by my window, up side down. And as long as I do my work, I can lay in the backseat filled with the absolute confidence that I am safe. I can risk having faith. I can risk Trusting the Universe. All of this work is risky. Cultivating happiness, self-love, radical acceptance. It’s hard work that requires intense introspection, time, vigilance over one’s inner life, vulnerability, willingness. To love is a risk. To live is a risk.

To sit in the backseat and do our own work, while we trust the Universe to drive, we must accept certain facts that the Universe is constantly trying to teach us:

We don’t have to do a single thing to be 1,000 percent Perfect. Of course, we will do things anyway. We will do amazing things. We will be kind to people – even people who might seem to not deserve that kindness. We will work and that work will have a tremendous effect on others – even if we never see that effect. We will laugh and set the wings of the world around us sailing. We will love. And loving is the most important thing we can do. We will do all of these things but we don’t have to do anything, any of this, to know that we are worthy of love already, that we are worthy of our own love and our own respect and our own good care.

I am not promoting self-love only; self love at the cost or to the detriment of all other action. I am promoting self-love FIRST. BECAUSE without self-love FIRST, everything we do -- however much of an impact we make, however good our work is—we will feel empty, we will feel lost. We will wonder why the good work we do isn't enough for us. We will feel selfish and ridiculous and desperately sad. Eventually, perhaps, we will even grow to resent the work we do or the people for whom we do it. We will wonder why everyone else gets our love, but us -- even if we are never able to articulate that confusion precisely. We will never stop trying to drive – even when we know we will never be allowed to. But if we work toward self-love FIRST then everything we do grows organically from a deep, sustainable, lasting love. Our happiness will give us the ability to truly make others happy. Our self-love will give us the ability to give others deep, sustainable, unconditional love-- radical acceptance-- because we are not relying on anything back from them to make us feel loved. We are loved. We’ve got our masks on already.

But self-love is also a process. No one has perfect self-love. Everyone doubts. Everyone gets scared. Everyone fumbles. But being true to the process of self-love means that in these times, we know we have to FIRST readjust our own masks, and get breathing steadily again before we can move on in our work.Cultivating Happiness, Self-love and Radical Acceptance is about recognizing The Universe's deep and abiding love for us. Engaging in the actions required for this cultivation is Trusting The Universe to drive. Only when we trust the Universe can we lie down in the backseat, beneath the half-opened window on a summer night watching the dark velvety blue of a sky speckled with stars rush by, with the soft voices singing into the hush up in front and feel truly calm, truly safe, and grace. So much abundant amazing grace.

Lie down in the backseat with Love, my people.​-(something like) the QP